Lord Voldemort's Prodigy
by Troublemaker-In-Chief
Summary: James Potter wakes up in a dungeon six years after he supposedly died, only to discover everyone he loves is dead. And Lord Voldemort has a son now, a son he is training to be just like him. Can James live through this? Does he even want to live anymore?
1. You don't remember me but I remember you

**You know the drill. I don't own Harry Potter, yada yada yada. I will most definitely continue this if I get reviews. ;]**

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James Potter panted in the darkness, trying to ignore the stabbing pain in his side and the unbearable agony throbbing in his heart.

He had a vague idea of where he was and an even vaguer idea of why he was there. He had this fleeting memory of a flash of green light, but it felt distant, like it happened in a dream or a past life. A very long time ago...and yet the pain in that memory was fresh in his mind. He didn't know what the flash of green light meant but he knew it wasn't good. It kept playing over and over again behind his eyelids like a horror movie he couldn't shut off.

James' face was pressed against the cold stone wall of a dungeon; horrifying thoughts filling his head.

He groaned; more out of the emotional stress than physical pain. What was going on? Where was everyone? Why was it so dark? What was the flash of green light he kept remembering? Where were Lily and Harry? What...?

_"Take Harry and run! I'll hold him off..." A high, cold laugh and a loud bang...the sound of something vast flying through the air, rushing toward him...blackness..._

"No," He whispered. "I can't have died."

He couldn't have died, it couldn't be true. Because if he died, and he hadn't successfully held off Voldemort, that meant Lily and Harry...no, he couldn't think about it. It wasn't true.

But if he wasn't dead, where was he?

"I can't have died." James repeated, louder this time, his throat clenching in pain. His voice was hoarse and raspy like he hadn't used it in years.

"Au contraire, mon frère." Said an unfamiliar voice.

James' eyes snapped open. Through the dim, gloomy light, he could make out three stone walls and a barred gate in front of him. Beyond the bars stood a man with coal black eyes and a cruel smile on his face. His brown hair was hair was hidden beneath a black hood and judging by the few lines on his face, he was only in his mid-thirties. James couldn't remember seeing this man before.

"Who are you?" James croaked.

"Larson Wormwood, pleasure to meet you, James." The man said. "I've been waiting for you to wake up for a few days now."

"Where am I?"

"Malfoy Manor." Wormwood answered. "But don't bother trying to get out of here. You won't be leaving."

"How'd I get here?" James asked, trying to sit up. His back felt sore, like he'd been lying on the ground for a very long time. "What - what happened to me..."

"You died." Wormwood replied with a smile. "But you didn't _really _die, or you wouldn't be here right now. You only went into a coma."

"I was in a coma?" James' mind felt foggy.

"Yes. For six years, in fact."

"No...that can't be..."

"_Oui,_ James. You were in a coma for six years, and now you're awake, just in time." Wormwood clapped his hands together with a smile. "This is excellent, all according to plan. I hope you don't mind staying down here in the dungeons. I can't bring you upstairs to the manor because, frankly, you're an enemy. And we can't have an enemy living among us!" Wormwood laughed. "_C'est ridicule!_"

"You're a Death Eater." James accused.

"_Oui,_ I am a Death Eater." Wormwood said proudly. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be getting back upstairs. The Dark Lord needs me."

"Voldemort...he killed..." James trailed off, not wanting to say it out loud.

"The Dark Lord didn't kill you." Wormwood shook his head. "Not really, he only put you in a coma, as I've already explained. But the rest of the world believes you to be dead."

"I know he didn't kill me. But he killed..." James swallowed, tears stinging his eyes.

"Your family?" Wormwood suggested helpfully, grinning cruelly. "Yes, he did."

He felt a vicious stab of pain in his heart.

"He murdered your mudblood wife, and then murdered your only son." Wormwood laughed. "I'll just leave you here to reflect on that."

As Wormwood turned away from the cell and made his way down the dark hallway outside, James barely noticed. The words Wormwood just said echoed around in his mind, looping over and over again until they finally sunk in...

_"You were in a coma for six years, and now you're awake...the rest of the world believes you to be dead...he murdered your mudblood wife and then murdered your only son..."_

_"murdered your mudblood wife, and then murdered your only son..."_

_"your mudblood wife and your only son..."_

_"your mudblood wife..."_

_"your only son..."_

_"murdered..."_

There was an explosion of unbearable, indescribable pain inside of him. It felt like someone performed the Cruciatus Curse on his heart; his insides were writhing and his heart was pounding against his ribcage like it was trying to get out. He raised his hands to his face and dug his nails into his cheeks, like he was trying to claw the pain out of himself. He fell back against the cold stone floor and screamed; screamed in an attempt to get rid of the pain that was suffocating him.

_Lily...Harry...murdered..._

He sobbed and tore at his face, wanting to rip it off. He wanted to reach inside his chest and tear out his heart_; _he didn't need it anymore. Lily and Harry were gone...

Thoughts of Lily wrapped around his mind and wouldn't let go. He saw Lily in his head, laughing; her gleaming emerald eyes squinted a little as she laughed. After a few moments the memory twisted; Lily's eyes widened as she screamed in terror...

And then memories of Harry...his small hand wrapped around James' finger, minutes after he was born...Harry's catlike eyes that matched Lily's exactly...his squeals of laughter as James tickled him mercilessly on the couch...his spikes of black hair that he'd inherited from James. The time Sirius tried to shape Harry's hair into a Mohawk, to James' amusement and Lily's disapproval.

That last memory hit him with the force of a wrecking ball.

_Sirius. Padfoot. Where are you now?_

And then the pain suddenly intensified. _Sirius. Remus...they must be dead by now, if Voldemort was still alive. Voldemort would have made sure to kill them. And Peter was doubtlessly dead. Peter had been the Secret-Keeper. If Voldemort found them, that meant he'd tortured the information out of Peter..._

Everyone he loved was dead.

He screamed again, unable to bear it any longer. He smashed his fists against the dungeon floor, screaming for his family, for his friends, for all that he'd lost, for everyone that had ever suffered because of Voldemort.

But most of all he screamed for his child; his innocent, wide-eyed son who hadn't even begun to experience life. His son with the spiky hair and emerald green eyes who he'd loved deeper and more intensely than he'd ever loved anyone in his entire life, who he'd vowed to protect to the death. He'd loved Harry more than he loved life itself, and now that Harry was gone, what was the point of being alive?

_I failed you, Harry. You too, Lily. I'm so sorry._


	2. I lie awake and try so hard not to think

**Disclaimer: I'm obviously not Jo Rowling, blah blah blah. **

**Warning: This chapter is a major angst fest, but I hope you'll like it. Pleeaase review. I'll update faster if people review.**

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Remus Lupin thought his head would explode with the pain. Blood was seeping through his pants from a gash in his calf. His knuckles were bruised and his lip was split. The darkness seemed to be suffocating him. Where was he? It looked like he was in a cell...how did he get here?

"Remus, how good to see you're finally awake." An unfamiliar voice said.

Remus looked up. Somewhere to his right there was a man standing behind the bars of the cell. The man had cold eyes, brown hair and a wicked smile on his face. He looked around the same age as Remus but Remus couldn't recall seeing him before. But something about the man's smile told Remus the man was no friend of his.

"Who are you?" Remus asked.

"I'm Larson Wormwood, the man who kidnapped you and brought you here, also a faithful servant of the Dark Lord." The man said. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You're a Death Eater." Remus said, wincing at the pain in his leg.

"_Oui,_ I am." Wormwood said proudly. "If you're wondering why you're here, its because the Dark Lord wants you here, and I won't go into further details than that. Don't even bother trying to leave this cell, because you can't get out. Its also impervious to magic, so don't bother trying to curse the cell door off its hinges. And naturally, you can't Apparate here."

"_Voldemort_ wants me here?" Remus gasped in shock. "Voldemort is dead."

"_Au contraire, _my filthy halfbreed friend. He's quite alive and well now, thanks to an ancient blood ritual." Wormwood smiled. "And how brave of you, saying the Dark Lord's name. Unfortunately, bravery can only get you so far in life. Look what happened to you when you showed bravery last night! You got yourself all beaten up. Yes, you put up quite a brave fight when Avery and I were bringing you here. But in the end, we did more damage to you than you did to us."

"Voldemort is back." Remus whispered to himself.

"Yes, isn't it grand?" Wormwood grinned.

"But people can't just come back to life." Remus argued desperately. "People don't come back from the dead."

"Oh, if only you knew." Wormwood cackled before turning away from Remus. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have another _guest_ to greet..."

"NO! COME BACK!" Remus tried to stand but his injured leg collapsed beneath him. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

He shuffled forward on his knees, grabbed hold of the bars, and fit his head through them. He looked into the corridor outside his cell, staring after Wormwood as he walked away. Through the greenish gloom, he could make out the bars of another cell at the end of the hall. The room behind the bars was lost in darkness so Remus couldn't see whoever was inside. Wormwood stopped in front of that cell and started talking to whoever was in there. Remus could only catch a few words.

"_Au contraire, mon frere..." _Remus heard him say. Then he heard Wormwood say, "_James..."_

James? _Remus'_ James? James _Potter_? Was Wormwood talking about James Potter? James was a common name, so maybe not, but still. Remus strained his ears, trying to hear more.

"_Six years...all according to plan..." _Wormwood was saying. Remus couldn't hear what the person in the other cell was saying, he could only hear Wormwood's responses occasionally. "_A coma...frankly, you're an enemy...c'est ridicule!...the Dark Lord needs me...your family? Murdered your only son...reflect on that..."_

Wormwood turned away from the cell at the end of the hall and started making his way back toward Remus' cell. Remus backed away from the bars and slouched down on the floor, pretending he hadn't been trying to listen to the conversation.

"Well, as I said before: don't try to escape, because it won't work. Just have fun counting the stones in the wall here, and someone will be down with your dinner later tonight. We have to keep you alive, unfortunately, so that means we also must feed you." Wormwood said. "Goodbye for now!"

Wormwood walked away from Remus' cell. A few moments later, a door slammed somewhere down the corridor, letting Remus know Wormwood had left. Everything was completely silent except for the pounding of Remus' heart in his ears.

_Now, I have to think of an escape plan,_ Remus thought. _There must be _some_ way out of here..._

But before Remus could start thinking of an escape plan, a loud scream came from the end of the hall, making Remus nearly jump out of his skin.

The screaming didn't stop. The minutes dragged by. It seemed like the screams intensified with every passing second. Remus had only heard screams like that a few times before. It sounded like the man in the cell at the end of the hall was under the Cruciatus Curse with the way he was screaming, but Remus knew better. The man was not under the Cruciatus Curse. The Cruciatus Curse causes you intense physical pain. The man in the cell at the end of the hall was suffering from _emotional_ pain, not physical. Remus could hear the emotion in his screams. Those were screams of anger and sorrow and grief. Screams of a man who'd lost everything. It cut Remus like a knife because he heard someone screaming like that before: _himself._

Yes, Remus had been that man in the other cell before. He himself had screamed that way, the day after Lily and James were killed, the day Sirius killed Peter and a street full of muggles, the day Sirius went to Azkaban, leaving Harry an orphan who had to live with relatives his parents had hated. The day Remus' life crumbled apart leaving him with nothing but memories of a different life, a life that was so much better. And it was the happy memories that were hardest for Remus to deal with: the memories of James and Sirius laughing on their way back from detention, memories of all the Marauders laying in the grass by the lake, memories of Lily and Harry, James and Harry, Sirius and Harry, and _how could Sirius do what he did? How could he hold Harry in his arms, knowing he was going to betray everyone to Voldemort? How could Sirius look James in the eye and smile like he wasn't already planning on selling him out to Voldemort? How? How? HOW?  
_

Remus forgot all thoughts of an escape plan. He lay on his back on the floor, his heart caving in from the weight of painful memories, listening to the screams from the cell at the end of the hall. The man's screams sounded how Remus felt inside: angry, broken, and alone.


End file.
